Entropy (Order and Disorder)
by annaleafe
Summary: Cat Adams was nothing like Spencer expected, but was everything he dreamed of. He was order, she was chaos. Together, they were entropy personified. (Takes place at the beginning of S11, "Entropy", then veers off when they leave the bar)
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Disorder

 _She is a panther._

That was Spencer Ried's first thought when she entered the bar. It took every ounce of strength to not immediately look at her across the room, not to run like prey from a predator. He pretended to not notice as she slunk across the room towards him. _Turn away_ , he told himself, pretending to look around the room for her. _Let her think you are weak._

"Spencer?" He turned.

And there she was. Cat Adams, Miss .45, with a questioning smile as she made eye contact. "Cat?" He stood quickly. "Hi, yes, hi."

She moved to hug him. "It's so nice to finally meet you."

"Oh, uh, no, sorry, I have a thing about germs." He stepped away from her.

"Sorry." She lowered her arms. A cautious smile played on her lips for a moment before she paused, glancing at the table. "Can I sit down?"

"Oh, yes, please, of course." Spencer was suddenly nervous. It would get better after he got her talking. Why did he think this was a good idea? He sat, watching her as she sat and took off her coat. Should he have pulled out the chair for her? Wait, no, it was a curved booth, there was no chair to pull out. _Stop doubting yourself. She is a killer,_ he reminded himself.

Cat opened her mouth as if she was about to say something, then closed it again. Was she feeling awkward? He wasn't sure what to start with. He needed to lull her into letting her guard down, at least for a while.

She broke the silence first. "First time doing this, huh?" Her eyes met his and they both looked away. She shrugged. "Yeah, I still get nervous too. Really, it wasn't until an hour ago when I was like, wait, we've been trading emails back and forth, but I still have no idea what this guy looks like…"

"Hence the rose," Spencer offered.

"I know, and then I was like, wait, he's going to bring a red rose, so maybe we should go to a nicer place, which is why I switched the restaurant last minute…" It was disarming, how uncomfortable her eyes looked. Did she know what was going on, or was he really just that bad of a conversationalist? "…and now I need to change, and put something nice on, for this place. I was totally underdressed, and my whole wardrobe makes me look like a Kardashian." From her tone, he knew Cat was insulting herself, but he had no idea what it meant. Was it a pop culture reference?

"A what?"

"You don't know what that is, do you?" She frowned slightly, as if recognizing her comment had fallen flat.

His brain clicked. "Oh, no, Robert Kardashian. He got OJ Simpson off. You don't look like him at all."

"Yeah, no, I was making a joke. About me." _Self-deprecating humor_ , he realized. Not a normal trait for a hitman, who would be overflowing with confidence in their skills.

"No, it was good," Spencer smiled at her.

"No, it really wasn't," Cat grimaced and forced out a false laugh. Another silence between them, and then her eyes lit up. "Can we start over? Hi, I'm Cat."

Spencer froze for a second. She was acting so nice, so normal. "Hi, I'm Spencer."

Her eyes softened and she smiled. "It really is nice to meet you. In person. Really." She shrugged. _Protecting herself emotionally, keeping herself from me_. "Tell me a little about yourself. Do you really have 3 PhDs?"

"Yes. I do. Have 3 PhDs, I mean."

"What was your favorite book you read last year?"

"Honestly, I've never read a book I didn't like."

Direct eye contact. "Tell me about your wife." Ah. She had used the questions to throw him off, to make him feel a little more safe. Spencer had to admit to himself, Cat was good. She smiled and gave another small shrug, as if telling him, you are the one who brought me here.

He froze for a second. He had a story prepared, but from the brief minutes he had interacted with Cat, he knew she would try to throw him off balance with more emotional questions. "You want to talk about that here?"

"Might as well get it out in the open. It's why we're here." For a second, her eyes were soft but piercing. She coughed, and the softness left her eyes. "How long have you been married?"

"Four years." He had been prepared for that one at least.

She nodded. Her smile was smaller now, like she was actively trying to keep it in her face. "When is she due to give birth?"

Spencer looked down and looked back up. _Keep your expression earnest_. He had never been an incredible actor. "Um, in couple of months." Maybe this would work though, maybe he could get her back on track for an easy confession and arrest. He learned across the table, lowering his voice. "Should we discuss price now, or…?"

She mirrored him, leaning close enough he could smell her perfume. He knew the scent but couldn't place it. "Slow down tiger, what exactly are we negotiating here?" Her eyes had lost all softness. She was looking at him like a cat would look at a mouse, scheming and dangerous.

"You know."

She shook her head with a sly grin. "I want to hear you say it."

Spencer licked his lips. He needed to sell this. "To have her killed."

She paused and then leaned back in her chair. Her eyes sparkled with delight. He was reminded of how a child might act when being given a gift. This woman loved what she did, which made her extremely dangerous. "Let me see your ring." Her voice sounded slightly different now, more demanding and in control.

Spencer glanced down, confirming that yes, the ring he had checked about 100 times was still on his finger. He set his hand on the table to show her. She lightly touched his hand, running her thumb across his knuckles, pausing on the ring. She scoffed, and Spencer looked up at her. Her expression was no longer guarded. She believed him. "You know what that is?" Her fingers played with the ring, twisting it around his finger gently. "A noose. Only it doesn't kill you all at once. It kills you slowly, day by day." She paused and looked at him. For the slightest second, Spencer thought her face looked heartbroken, but the expression disappeared before he realized it was there. "Ever feel that way?"

He was surprised by how true his response felt. "I feel that all the time."

She lifted her hand away from his. A small, excited smile. "Take it off."

"Why?"

"As a sign of your commitment." She had her elbow on the table and was resting her chin on her hand. "To me." There was that shrug again. If he didn't know who she was, he would say this action was showing slight insecurity. She was quite the actress.

She smiled confidently and held out her hand expectantly. Spencer slipped it off and put it onto her outstretched palm. She glanced down at it, as if looking for all the misery it had caused.

- _We have you over her left shoulder. Do you copy?_ \- It was the first comment he had heard from the team since she had walked in, and he was relieved. She would try to take him out of the bar to kill him, and they would apprehend her right outside. Then they would just need the Bomber.

He glanced up at the camera for the briefest second to confirm he heard, then looked back at Cat. She was looking at him expectantly. "24 Karat?" He nodded. She let out a sigh that sounded almost… disappointed? "24k times, what, 4 years? Means this ring should be dinged and nicked, and yet," she unzipped her purse and put the ring inside, "this sucker is brand new." Her face was blank. "You aren't married."

Two very distinct clicks.

Spencer would know that noise anywhere. His whole team would. She has just cocked a gun under the table. The façade was over. Her eyes were dark. "Why are we here, Spencer?"

"We are here," he kept his voice calm and quiet, putting in as much sincerity as he could muster, "because you are because you are a member of the four hitmen who operate in the shadows of the internet. You are known as Miss .45. My team and I have been hunting you for months. I knew if we boxed you in here, we could arrest you with as little resistance as possible."

"Your team being the behavioral analysis unit at the FBI?"

He confirmed with a nod. He wasn't surprised she knew, even if his team would be. She seemed smart. She would have Googled his name before coming in. He was curious, though, why she would come, knowing they would be here.

"I have to admit, you guys are good." Her body relaxed and she leaned back, like she was relived the pretense of their conversation could end. "You are the only ones who got close to us."

She paused and cocked her head, like she was examining him. "But we got kind of close to you too, didn't we?" She leaned across the table with a playful smile. "Hi Penelope." So she knew he was mic'ed, and she knew who on his team would be the most likely people to listen. That meant she also knew agents would be in the restaurant. Did she know what they looked like?

She sat back in her chair, a smug look on her face. She wasn't afraid at all of being caught. Why?

"Do you know why I am so good at my job?" Her tone was rhetorical. She knew what he would say.

"You kill without emotion or remorse."

She rolled her eyes as if he had said something ridiculous. "That only gets a girl so far in life. No. It's because I think through every potential outcome and I plan accordingly."

Spencer realized what she meant the second before she said it. He could tell from her face she knew that he knew, but she said it out loud anyways with a smile. "Yeah, I didn't walk into your trap. You walked into mine." Was it so Penelope would hear?

Spencer was instantly replaying every possible outcome they had planned for if she had already known who he was. They hadn't planned many, because unlike him, the rest of the team had been confident that if she knew, she wouldn't agree to meet with Spencer. Their group was too cautious for that. Still, he had pushed for a few different scenarios. Hitmen were incredibly confident and competent people. He knew which direction he wanted to take this conversation. Hopefully Hodge would realize which plan he was going for.

"Where's your head, Spencer?" She knew what he was doing. She moved towards him, scooting around the booth until she was next to him. Had she seen him look at the cameras? Did she want Penelope to see her face? But no, her face showed real curiosity. "What are you thinking about?" Her voice was coy.

"Just thinking about entropy." She nodded and ran her hand down his chest. To anyone else in the bar, it would look like their date was going very, very well. She slipped her hand into his coat jacket. _Keep her talking_. "It's the thermaldynamtic measure of degradation of matter and engery in the universe. To put it another way…" She pulled his gun from his suit pocket and smiled at him. "There's your gun."

"Good evening." Cat and Spencer both looked up to see the waiter standing there. He was about to ask if they were ready to order when Cat spoke over him.

"You know…" she touched Spencer's chest again. He realized that Cat knew this would bother him from his refusal of the hug. She was sharper that he gave her credit for. He looked at her as she smiled up at the waiter, "We are just having such a good time getting to know each other, we will let you know when we are ready, okay?" Her tone left no room for argument. The waiter nodded politely and left. "Thank you. And now that we've gotten that out the way, will you do me a favor and tell Blondie McBlonderson over at the bar to disappear." Spencer glanced up at JJ, who had been watching them, stirring a gin and tonic. She gave up looking casual at that point. - _Stand down, JJ_ \- Hodge's voice said warily. She put down her drink and scowled at Cat.

Cat shifted away from Spencer to return to her side of the table. As JJ passed by, Cat called after her. "Thanks for playing, sweetie." She grinned at Spencer.

- _Reid, do not let her get up from the table-_ Hodge barked.

Spencer kept his face blank. "Okay. You're in charge. Tell me what you want and I'll see if I can get it here for you."

Cat lowered her voice. "Anything I want?"

"Anything you want."

"Like a million dollars in unmarked bills and maybe a plane to Aruba?" Her face didn't shift at all.

 _That isn't what she wants_. "Is that what you want?"

"And you'll say you'll bring it here, but the real plan is to distract me from what is, I'm sure, an impressive law enforcement response just outside that door, is that the plan?" She looked almost bored now.

"That's the plan," Spencer gave her. It wasn't worth lying yet, not when he still had a chance to make her trust him.

She cocked her head and looked curiously at him before speaking quickly. "Okay. Let's talk. But let's talk about something interesting at least… Tell me about me." Her eyes met his.

"You?" Spencer needed to steer this conversation carefully. She rolled back her shoulders to show she was listening to his quiet words. "You are a black widow hit woman, you specialize in seduction, and you're patient. You learn everything about the men you are hired to kill, physically, physiologically, and emotionally because you want them in the most compromised position as possible when you pull the trigger."

"And when I do it really well, they pull the trigger themselves." She added quickly. Why was she giving him information? He raised his eyebrows at her in an invitation to continue.

She paused. "Give me your phone."

"Why?"

"Because I know what I want now. I want to play a game with you." Her voice was coy but her face was dead serious. "You like games?" Was her tone mocking him?

Spencer tried to keep the confusion off his face. _Keep her talking, get a confession_. That was turning into tonight's mantra. "I do."

"Do you win?"

His eyes narrowed at her, and he lowered his voice. "I always win."

An unexpected expression (joy, perhaps?) flit across her face, before it settled back into the coy, mocking mask she had been keeping all night. "Give it to me."

Spencer reached into his pocket and pulled it out, handing it to her. What was she doing?

"Okay. Here is my game. You have 30 minutes," she set down his phone to show him the timer, "to answer every question I ask. And if you lie, I'll know." Her voice turned sharp. She was daring him. "Because I've spent the past ten years of my life studying men and their lies before I kill them. Do you believe me?"

Interesting. He could play this out to his advantage. "I do."

She smiled and nodded. "That was true. You're getting this. Now," she stared into Spencer's eyes, not blinking, "here is how we know who wins. If you win, you drag me out of here in handcuffs. If I win, you will escort me out, like a gentleman, to make sure I exit safely." She studied his face. "What do you think Spencer? Think you can win this one?"

Spencer motioned for her to lean in towards him so he could whisper into her ear. His tone was colder now. "Considering everything you've put Garcia and so many people through, you are going to have to shoot me in the face before you walk out of here."

She smirked and leaned back. "Game on."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Disorder

Spencer had to admit to himself, when he prepared for this, he hadn't looked at her picture too closely. He had been busy pulling as much background as he could on her. Maybe that was why, even in the middle of this dangerous game, he couldn't stop himself from examining her face.

She was pretty, but he had known that from the cursory glance he'd given her picture at the office. Now that he was here, he could see the small imperfections. A thin, white scar on her lip. A light dusting of freckles almost hidden by her tan skin. It was her eyes, though, that really drew him in. She had perfected the art of hiding her feelings behind a mask, like all professional killers are able to do, but her eyes were more expressive than any he had seen in years. If he wanted to figure Cat out, he would need to focus on her eyes.

He took a breath. _Let the game begin_. "What do you want to ask me?"

"How you found me," Cat answered quickly, "of course. A professional learns from her mistakes." She reached over to Spencer's phone and tapped it to start the timer.

Spencer paused for a second. If he played this right, she would fall right into their trap. "We got our big break at the end of last year. I didn't know how big until I got back from some time off."

Cat studied his face. "Why'd you take time off?"

Spencer swallowed. He hadn't meant to let that slip. He was planning on giving her information she probably already knew and waste her 30 minutes of this game. Thoughts of his mother rushed through him before he could close his face off. He continued on, telling her how he had visited Derek and Savannah, about how he was bringing them back to hear the breakthrough on the case.

"Stop." Cat looked annoyed. "You didn't answer why you took time off."

 _Shit_. "It's not relevant."

"That's not the game. The game is you answer every question I ask." She paused, as if she realized something. "Is it a…secret?"

Spencer shook his head.

"Is it…dirty?" She was playing with him.

"No."

"Then tell me." Her face was soft and her voice was full of false innocence.

"It's not important to your story."

"Out of curiosity, is it me you don't want to tell? Or the people listening in?" She had him figured out.

He glanced down at the phone. Only two minutes had passed. "Is this really how you want to spend your 30 minutes?"

"Yes." She smirked, then paused and glanced to the side of the room. "No." She frowned slightly and turned back to Spencer. "Okay, so you were saying…"

Spencer told her about Brian Cochran, how he had decided to speak to the FBI. When he got the part about Penelope explaining their specialties, he paused. "You know, I told Garcia that hitmen are basically Swiss Army knives of killing. Not very specialized." Cat scowled at him. He smirked and continued with the story. He listed the group members and their specialties. "And then, of course, the one with the highest body count…"

"Me." Cat's voice was proud, her huge smile and sparkling eyes back. "Wow, that was really impressive," she said mockingly, "how you figured out all of that from information that was handed to you. Quick question, are you guys really profilers? Because this, what I am about to tell you, is profiling." She coughed slightly to clear her throat and her eyes narrowed. "The reason you took time off was to deal with the same girl who broke your heart." Spencer shook his head. _What was she trying to do here?_ "The death of a parent then."

Spencer paused involuntarily before replying, "Nope."

Cat's head tilted, like she had just solved a puzzle. "Ahhhh, I'm close. It's mom or dad, in the billiard room with the candle stick." Spencer kept his face completely frozen. "Oh, now you are mad at me, aren't you?"

"Not at all." Spencer said evenly.

"Yes, you are. I can tell." He wasn't sure how she was able to do it. He had years of practice keeping his emotions hidden, and now this girl, this hitman, was able to see through all of that.

 _That shoulder shrug… Insecurity_ , he remembered. That's what he would play on. "No offense," he lowered his voice, " but you aren't really worth getting angry at." Two could play this game, and he watched her face carefully.

She froze. She was annoyed, maybe? Or still trying to figure out about his mom? "So, you figured out what the four of us did." She was giving him an out, a way to keep talking. He didn't know why, but he felt a small shred of gratitude. If she kept pushing him, she would find out. He hadn't lied before. It wasn't really a secret. He just really didn't want anyone on the team knowing yet.

He told her how they had found the Snowman, how they had been given the flash drive. "Lucky break. Again, not profiling. Are you sure you have 3 PhDs?" She glared at him. For some reason, he was getting the impression she was disappointed, that he had let her down. She had been hoping this elite group of FBI analysts had figured something out about them that led them to her, not just pieces of information they had been handed by Cochran.

"Well, well, well. You took the Chemist and the Sniper are out of commission."

Spencer was curious now. _Was that why she had come to meet him?_ To find out what had happened to them? "Did you know?"

"I knew something was off. They didn't bid on some contracts. And this isn't the kind of job where you get to take time off to be with your…" her eyes were searching him, baring into his soul. "Mother? Is it your mom? It's got to be your mom."

"I'm not going to tell you." His voice shook the slightest amount. No one should have noticed. But she did.

"Spencer." She was annoyed. "Why. Did you. Take time off. From the FBI." She wasn't going to drop it.

"You can ask as many times as you want, and waste all of your time, but I am still not going to tell you." She was getting to close to him. He was fascinated. _She must have some sort of profiling training_. That made her more dangerous than most.

"Then you are cheating and I don't like cheaters." She was pushing him, trying to get him to slip up.

"You don't get everything you want just because you are pointing a gun at me under a table." He was trying to hurt her now, break through the mask somehow. "You aren't the first killer to point a gun at me. You aren't even the first woman to point a gun at me." He smiled at her and shrugged cockily. "Sorry."

"You are really going to take this all the way, aren't you?" It wasn't really a question. She knew him. He didn't know how, but she did. Somehow, in just a few minutes of meeting her, she had him pegged.

"Yes, I am."

Cat sat back in her seat and pursed her lips. "So am I." She looked at something over his shoulder. "Do you think I'm bluffing?"

"No." Had she seen someone? Her expression was different now. Calm.

She slid back towards him until she was close enough to rest her hand on his leg. "I'm going to ask you one more time." She traced a finger up the top of his thigh while watching his face. She wanted him to tell her to stop, to ruin the game, to lose to her. "Before you say no," she brought her hand up to his tie, twisting it so she could see the mic, "I want you to consider something." She covered the mic with her thumb and brought her lips close to his ear, then paused. "I'll kill the Fed walking towards me first," she warned.

 _But why warn him? Why not just shoot to kill every FBI agent in here?_ She could. He had seen enough of her skillset in her file to know she was a better shot than anyone in here. There was a reason she came. Spencer needed to figure it out. He was the only one who could.

"Fine, I'll tell you." He whispered.

"What was that?"

"I'll tell you." He met her gaze steadily. She pulled her hand away from the mic and looked expectantly over his shoulder. "Rossi, stand down." He spoke loudly before turning away from her smug gaze. He looked over his shoulder to see Rossi a few yards away. "Please."

Rossi nodded slowly and turned, walking into the kitchen. Car watched him go and once the door closed, turned her attention back to Spencer.

He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. Her hand brushed his under the table and she gave his hand a small squeeze. Was she… comforting him? What was she playing at? "My mom has schizophrenia." He looked away from her. This game was suddenly all too personal. "The doctors changed her medication, which seemed to… agitate her, so I went to the treatment center to help her." He turned back to Cat, expecting her face to sneer at his weakness, proud to win this part of the game. He was surprised to see a hollowness in them. _Her father_ , he remembered. That's how he would play it.

Before he could say anything more, her mask was back up, and she lifted a brow at him. "That's it?" If he hadn't seen her face the split second before, he would have assumed her response was completely authentic, that his answer really did bore her.

"That's it." He met her gaze calmly. He could wear a mask too.

"You just risked your life over," she sneered mockingly, "Mommy's pills?"

He nodded carefully. "It's the truth."

She saw through him. "It's part of the truth. You're holding something back." He felt a tinge of fear. "Here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to add ten minutes as punishment." She reached across the table to tap the phone. "And keep in mind, the only reason you aren't dead right now is because I learned something important."

"Oh really?" Spencer almost rolled his eyes. She was fishing for more information.

"Your backup. I've flushed them out." Spencer almost instinctively looked at Morgan and Lewis in the corner, but caught himself and frowned at Cat. "Just you and me now," she cooed. "So, last score count was you had taken down two of us, plus the Snowman." She was letting him go back to this. Why? She clearly had known about this before walking in.

He slid back into the story. The Snowman had given up their bank information, but didn't have information to give on the Bomber. However, the data on Cat had been clear. She had been hired for three jobs by husbands looking to kill their wives. "Instead, you turned on the husbands. You took their money, and their lives." He tried to get a read on her, but Cat's face was stone. He continued. They had pieced information together and created a persona for Spencer that would draw her out. He had gotten the go ahead but there was a flaw…

"It's you." Cat tilted her head to examine him. "You're the flaw. You aren't married, and you don't have children."

"But I am the closest to your age, and I knew if things got out of hand, you would be more willing to negotiate with me."

Cat's eyes flashed with anger. "You have zero control here. None. I outflanked you from the beginning."

Spencer made a noise that sounded his doubt. "Some of your moves were pretty obvious."

"Such as?" She was annoyed now.

"Such as showing up armed, such as changing the venue at the last moment…"

"I needed a restaurant full of innocents in case this was a trap." Spencer thought he saw worry in her eye, but it was quickly replaced. Was he projecting onto her? There was something weird about this whole meeting he still couldn't figure out. He could just ask her.

"If you really suspected this was a trap, why show up at all? When you first set eyes on me, from the bar, from the door, you should have seen through me and kept on moving, but you didn't." He was piecing it together now. "You couldn't. Because you can't get to the man you really want to hurt, so you need to hurt any man who reminds you of him."

Her breathing had turned shallow and her eyes were glossy with the beginning of tears. "That's kind of boilerplate psychology, isn't it? I'm just another girl with daddy issues." Her words were meant to bite, but they fell flat. He had figured her out, and she knew it. He could back her into a corner from here.

"You'd be surprised by how many killers do what they do because of their parents. Let's test that theory, shall we? How hard," his eyes hardened, "did you look for him?"

Cat's voice was empty. "Very hard." She wasn't meeting his eyes anymore.

"And how disappointed were you when you realized you will never find him." He was going to make her break. She thought she could hurt him with his mom, but they weren't that different. He would use her dad. Her eyes were empty. He couldn't let her retreat into herself, not while he was so close. "You found an outlet for your rage. This worked for a while, didn't it? But it also tripped you up. Can I tell you a little secret?" He leaned towards her. "Everything eventually falls apart." He searched for any emotion in her eyes, anything to guide him. "The trick is accepting when everything is over." She didn't blink, just stared at him. He was about to add another verbal blow when the timer on his phone went off. Spencer looked down at it and moved to turn it off. The game was over and he had won.

"Except it ain't over, is it?" He looked up and the tears were gone. Cat suddenly looked completely calm.

"Do you really think I'm going to let you walk out of here?"

She sat up, speaking clearly. "You profiled so much about me, except you forgot to ask," she tilted her head and a hint of a smile touched her mouth. "Why would I make you sit here for thirty minutes?"

"Because you're stalling." Spencer was suddenly thrown. Why would she? Why play a game when she could have just shot her way out?

"Then you don't know me at all." She looked at him, calculating her next words. "Do you really think I would show up here without an escape plan? Or is that just what another girl with daddy issues would do?" She was mocking him now. "Maybe if you hadn't fallen victim to your own gender bias, and yes," she cut off what he opened his mouth to say, "all men have gender bias, even you, Dr. Ried, you would have recognized that your whole strategy was based on one faulty detail. Don't you see it?"

Everything fell into place so quickly Spencer almost had vertigo. "You're not here alone."

"And my partner?" Her eyes taunted him. "Less paranoid than you think."

"You planted a bomb in the building." It wasn't a question.

"I didn't." She smiled carefully. "My job was to keep you and your team focused on us." She crossed her arms and looked at him with narrowed eyes. "So he can do what he does best."

- _We've got interconnected C4 charges down here_ -JJ's voice cut in over the comm Spencer had almost forgotten he was wearing.

"There are innocent people here," his voice dropped the persona he had put on of a cool and collected profiler. How had he fallen for this?

"Yes, there are." Cat paused. "So let me remind you what we are playing for. Not only will I walk out of here, but you will make sure I leave safely. And," she glanced around pointedly at the tables, "from where I'm sitting, it looks like I won."

Spencer heard the comm flare to life with the team in a crisis resolution mode. He tried to focus on Cat, to relax, but her narrowed eyes were keeping him on edge. How had he missed so much? What was it about this girl that made her impossible to figure out?

"Oh, look, there they go." Every waiters in the building exited from the kitchen and began approaching tables, offering them their tabs.

"All we want to do is—"

"Prevent collateral damage. I get that." And she really did. Something in her eyes said she was unsure about what was happening. He shook his head. He needed to work by the profile, not how she was reacting. "I'm not mad. It will give me the cover I need to slip out. I just need to know it's clear. So do me a favor? Tell your boss that nobody leaves until it's safe for me to."

- _Ried, agents are pulling back. You need to let her go_ \- Hodge's voice was clear. Spencer took a breath. He felt like this was the wrong move. Why? Why was he hesitating. Hodge's order came through the comm again. Cat was looking at him expectantly. "You can leave," he said softly. Cat moved away from him, grabbing her coat and bag. He was thinking quickly now. He could still keep her here. Did he really want to? The words came out before he could consciously decide he wanted to go down this path. "But you won't."

* * *

Cat, for the first time that night, looked genuinely confused. "I'm sorry?"

He rolled back his shoulders and looked at her, meeting her with confidence. "Double or nothing. You need to sit back down." He could hear Hodge's voice ringing in his ear asking what he was playing at, but all he could focus on was Cat. She hid it well, but he could see she was conflicted, torn between freedom and curiosity. "You played your trump card, but I have one too."

His words seemed to snap her out of indecisiveness. "Thanks for dinner. I had fun." She smirked at him, and turned, walking towards the door.

He waited until she was halfway across the restaurant. "I found your father." As he expected, she froze, staring at the door ahead. He could see the muscles in her back tensing, like her own body was fighting to move to freedom, but her mind needed to know. She turned, and the expression on her face almost made Spencer regret this choice. It was all the pain, worry, and fear he had experienced with him mom. The hope that she might get better, and the knowledge that things would only get worse. The worst was Cat's eyes. They were shaken, and he knew that if he did this, he really would break her for good.

"No you didn't." Her voice was level, and he knew no one on the team would be able to see her face. They wouldn't know it was working.

"Look at my face. Am I bluffing?" Spencer could see her trying to focus on him, but being too thrown, too confused. "I'll tell you where he is, but you need to sit back down and listen to the rest of my story."

Her eyes closed briefly, and when they opened, they were full of anger. "No. Tell me now. Or I'll –"

"Detonated the bomb?" He finished for her. "You aren't going to do that, Cat, because then you wont learn anything. You said you were good at your job because you think through every outcome. Well, so do I."

She hesititated, and after a moment, she seemed to resign herself. She walked back towards Spencer and slid back into the booth. "Alright. Finish the story."

Spencer explained how he had learned about her, about her history, and about her father. Daniel, he explained, had left the country, but returned a few years ago as an addict. Spencer had found him, and tried to bring him in to question him about Cat. "He didn't recognize you. He said he never had a daughter."

Spencer knew this was one of the worst things he had ever done. He had just gone through all this pain experiencing this with his mother, and now he was pushing that pain onto Cat. _She deserves it, though_.

"He….he didn't remember me?" It was hard to look at her. If this is what it took to bring her in, though, he would do it.

"The alcoholism shredded his brain." She nodded, still not meeting his gaze. "I'm sorry."

She snorted and looked up at him. "You are not sorry." The mask was back. "Sorry is what people say when they don't understand." She frowned and looked at him. "Wait…" She saw it. He thought she would, but hoped briefly that she wouldn't. "Wait, you do know." She sighed softly, quiet enough no one on the comm would hear. "Your mother." It wasn't a question. "Tell me."

Spencer sighed. Of all the people to have this conversation with for the first time, a dangerous hitman wasn't the worst option. She had already seen through the walls he put up around his emotions regarding his mother. No one on the team had been able to do that, not really. He looked at her, and let the walls come down. "Is this part of the game?"

She saw. "No." A pause. "The game is over."

He took a breath. While she had kept her voice steady, her face had crumpled into the most empathic stare he had ever experienced. If anyone would understand, maybe it would be her. It was an insane feeling, but for a second, he almost felt like he could trust her with this. "When I went to visit my mother," he started. He trailed off, not knowing how to continue. Being honest, being real, it was harder than he thought.  
He felt something pressed against his leg, and realized it was her foot, like someone might do to an anxious dog during a storm to remind them they are here, that they don't need to be scared. _Why was she comforting him?_ "Her medical chart. It didn't make sense. The medication they gave her, it should have been helping. I couldn't figure out what was making her so… angry. I, um, I went to see her." He took a breath. He knew they would all be able to hear him. It was easier to focus on Cat. "The moment I walked in her room, I saw it. For three seconds, she didn't know who I was. I had her tested that morning. They figured out that I'd… she had early onset dementia. Most likely Alzheimer's."

Cat's steady gaze was on him. He waited for a quick barb from her before she ran. "Did you test yourself?" That wasn't a question a hitman waiting to escape would be asking. It was a question a person concerned about Spencer would ask. She didn't wait for an answer. She saw it on his face. "No. You didn't. You were too scared." His breath caught in his throat, and he coughed once to clear it.

"I thought I dodged a bullet when I turned 30 and didn't have a schizophrenic break. But, uh, this is somehow bigger and scarier because I can actually see it happening." Cat's head tilted in an unspoken question. "All the memories that we used to share. Just dying. I cant stop it. I cant help her. All I can do is find people who I can help."

They sat in silence for a second, then Cat raised her head. "Is that why you showed up tonight? To help me?" Spencer wondered, just for a moment, what would happen if he said yes. How would her face change? "Do you know," Cat continued, "how many men have said they can help me?" She took a breath and when she met Spencer's eyes, her eyes were narrowed and accusing. "How do you think that worked out for them?"

 _-She just armed the bomb!-_ He heard JJ yell over the comm.

 _-The bomber has to be here, in the restaurant.-_

 _-Priority is evacuation-_

Everything was happening so quickly, and he couldn't focus. He wanted to answer Cat. Wanted to ask her to please, just go quietly. He wasn't sure if he would be able to shoot her if he needed to at this point. She was too much like him.

 _-Adams mentioned something about gender bias-_

 _-The Bomber is a woman-_

She was looking at him, waiting calmly for him to make this next move. She may have said the game was over, but it wasn't.

He met her gaze levelly. "You're right. You don't need my help. You don't need anyone's help. You are completely in control."

Suddenly, a scream from the bar. Lewis had a tall, brunette woman in a headlock, Morgan holding her phone in his hand. Cat shook her head so slightly he almost didn't see it. "Idiots."

She slid out of the bar and Spencer stood to grab her when she bolted. He felt her breath, hot against his ear. "I wasn't running, Spencer." He felt the cold metal of a gun being pressed up against his chin. _Shit_.

 _-the bomb is disabled-_

 _-we are in the clear-_

 _-Ried isn't-_

Morgan turned to Ried, and drew his gun, pointing steadily at Cat. Cat scowled and her voice was mocking. "Oh, no, don't! I would hate to shoot Spencer here. We've become so close."

Spencer spoke first. "Everyone, get out of here."

Morgan studied Spencer's face. He had been listening to the comm enough to piece together what Spencer's original plan had been. It could still work.

"I'm not going anywhere." He said steadily, looking at Spencer. "Ried. It's time."

Spencer recognized it. Morgan was falling into one of the original plans. "No. We can't." He wasn't sure he was saying it just because of the plan anymore.

"Time for what?" Cat's voice raised slightly higher. She was nervous.

"Morgan, shut up." Spencer needed to defuse this before Cat snapped.

"There is one thing he hasn't told you yet."

"That's not true, don't listen to him, he's lying to you." He winced. Morgan was going to do it, and he felt awful. This wasn't the way to do it.

"What haven't you told me?" Cat's voice cut in over his words.

"Nothing! I've told you everything."

Morgan's voice put an end to it. "We brought your father here."

Cat froze. Spencer felt her hand clutch the back of his shirt. She was trying to stay grounded. He sighed. This wasn't how he had planned for this to go. Her voice broke through his thoughts. "Here? He's here?" She was panicked now, glancing between him and Morgan.

"He's right outside. Ried thought he would need every bargaining chip he had."

Spencer tried to reel it back in. "I am begging you Morgan, don't." He glanced down at Cat. She had tears in her eyes as she looked up at him.

She saw his expression and frowned. "You are really upset about this, aren't you?"

Spencer didn't reply.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it? To hurt the man who deserves it?" Morgan had his eyes focused on Spencer. Cat wouldn't see it, she didn't know Morgan at all, but Morgan was confused. The plan was for Spencer to agree and then let Cat go. Why was he fighting?

Her voice was heavy. "They all deserve it." Spencer sighed heavily. He felt Cat's hand loosen on the back of his shirt. She was making her choice. "Only if Spencer escorts me out." She didn't spare a glance for Morgan, his gun still aimed on her. She dropped the gun she had been holding to the floor.

Spencer could feel her shaking slightly. Maybe it was just the adrenaline from a gun standoff. He knew it wasn't, though. "Deal." Morgan handed him a pair of cuffs and he held Cat's wrists, securing them. Somehow, his hand found hers, and he gave it a gentle squeeze, hardly noticeable. He felt awful. His job was to arrest her, not break her heart.

* * *

They moved together towards the door. Morgan leading, and Spencer still holding one of Cat's wrists. When they got to the door, Cat paused. "I, um. I need just a second. Is that okay?" Morgan nodded and stepped away towards the police van, preparing to open it

Cat turned and looked up at Spencer. "I've read every paper you've written, you know." He looked at her, confused by the abrupt topic change, and let her continue. Her eyes were suddenly clear, like she wasn't upset or nervous at all.

"I wanted to know what kind of person I'd be up against. That's when I really became interested in you, Spencer. That's why we wanted to meet you. You're extremely confident in your profiles." She paused, as if considering something. "I honestly thought you would see it." Spencer opened his mouth to reply, but she shrugged, turning away from him. "I'm ready. I'm ready to see my father."

He opened the doors to the van and helped her step up inside. She looked around the empty van, and nodded slowly. She turned to look at Morgan, who was waiting a few yards away for Spencer. "You lied." He had assumed she would be angry, or that she would call him a cheater. Instead, her voice was level as she sat down calmly.

As he knelt to attach her handcuffs to the wall, she leaned into him, resting her chin on his shoulder. She spoke very quietly, soft enough that even if anyone was still listening to his mic, it wouldn't be picked up.  
"You know that paper you contributed on in 2011, about profiling suicide bombers? I just found that one so interesting. About how bombers are paranoid, because their worst fear is that they might be blown up, but suicide bombers go against that." Her voice had turned cold, mocking him. "I just find it so interesting that a few words from me could change the confidence level you had of your profile."  
Her eyes met his and her small, smug smile was back. He saw an emotion dance across her face. Regret, maybe? He couldn't place her expression. Her lips brushed against his cheek and she sat back against the wall. "Have a good evening, Dr. Ried." She closed her eyes.

He was frozen in place, kneeling next to her. She had given him so many hints throughout the night about his profiles being wrong. Why would she do that unless… Unless she was trying to tell him something. Unless he was right. The Bomber was too paranoid to be there. The woman at the bar was a plant, luring them into security. He stood suddenly and rushed out of the van.

Morgan was talking to one of the EMTs who had been called on site. He had to tell them, had to tell someone. He made it three more steps towards Morgan.

Then the bomb exploded.

* * *

 _Authors note:  
We are officially caught up to the end of Entropy. I just thought it was so ridiculous that the Bomber would go into the same building as her. They are professional hit-men. They wouldn't make mistakes like that. I also find it hard to believe that they would have caught the Snowman at all, but I'll handle that in a later chapter. Until next time, -A_


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 - Aftershock

Spencer was alone. The office was completely dark except for the light from his computer screen. He couldn't leave yet, not while there were so many puzzles to piece together.

It had been forty-nine days since Harry & Glenn's had gone up in a ball of fire. Forty-nine days since Cat disappeared. Forty-nine days since they had any hint to where she and the Bomber had fled.

Spencer opened her file and stared at her photo. He'd been doing that a lot lately, he realized. Looking at her, memorizing her face, trying to glean any sort of hint from her resilient glare. He slammed her file shut and looked back up at the computer. He had been watching the interrogation of the brunette from the bar, the one they had fatally mistaken for the Bomber. He ran a tired hand through his hair and pressed play.

" _—paid me, through Venmo even. I thought she was just another girl asking for help."_

 _"And you help girls like this a lot?"_

 _"I do, all the time, I swear. You can ask anyone. Or look at the Craigslist posting. When girls are going on first dates with guys they meet online, they want someone there, you know? Someone who has their back?"_

 _"So she paid you to…. do what exactly?"_

 _"Just sit at the bar. She asked me to just sit and watch her to make sure the guy didn't try anything. She asked me to be ready to call a number for her mom if anything fishy was going on, that's all, I swear, I didn't know wh—"_

Spencer paused the video again. Mindy Smithson's story had checked out. She had been following girls for over a year, ever since her roommate had been attacked by a blind date she had met on Tinder. This girl had just been trying to do the right thing when Cat had emailed her. Cat had implied she'd gone on a date that ended dangerously before, and was extremely anxious about that night. She offered to pay double Mindy's rate if Mindy would hold a phone with a pre-dialed number all night.

They'd traced the email Mindy had received. Dead end, of course. The phone number hadn't even been tied to the bomb. Cat clearly didn't trust this girl to not blow them all sky high if she thought Spencer looked like a date rapist.

He groaned, pushing away from his desk and standing. He always mocked people who paced when they were thinking, but lately he couldn't help it. The explosion had shaken his nerves.

It had shaken the whole team, to be honest.

The bomb itself wasn't as bad as it could have been. A bomb squad agent confirmed it had only been a single charge of C4. The bomb had misfired, and the gas lines were never in any danger. However, it has caused a considerable amount of damage. Several of the employees at the bar had been injured when part of the kitchen collapsed. JJ and Rossi both were still out on mandatory leave for serious burns. JJ's left arm and neck had needed a skin graft, and Rossi had nerve damage across his back. He claimed to not remember what happened, but they all knew he had shielded JJ from the blast by putting himself in front of her.

Rossi had tried come back into the office a few times before being chased away and threatened with his badge if he didn't take time to heal properly. Spencer had seen JJ only once, at the hospital while she was asleep, but after that she had refused all visitors. They all knew she didn't want to be seen while she was weak, so they were respecting her space. Spencer called her physical therapist after each of her sessions, but he would wait for her to reach out first. He knew that more painful than any physical injury, it was the fact that their pride as capable agents had been hurt.

The whole team had been wrong, so wrong, and it had thrown everyone off.

Garcia has been taken into protective custody. She was still contacting them regularly, but he had no idea where she was physically. Her messages had been growing more and more anxious, and he was worried she was about to either implode on herself or quit contacting them at all.

Meanwhile, Spencer's work was taking him three times as long. He was triple checking every tiny detail, terrified something would slip through and cause someone on his team to get hurt. And now, here he was in the office at 2am, trying to find anything, _anything_ , that would lead him to Cat and the Bomber.

He walked back to his desk and picked up her file again, pulling out three large, grainy photos from inside the transport van. He spread them out and stood over them. The first showed Cat whispering into his ear. He hadn't known it at the time, but she had been looking right into the camera and he could see her face clearly. Her expression was eerily calm. The second was taken seconds after the bomb went off. A young man, with an Asian or Hispanic background, was climbing up into the van with a large pair of clippers. The third was showed Cat about to jump down from the van. He could see the bright light from the fire through the open transport doors. She was silhouetted by flames, and the man was holding his hand up to help her down.

They had tried every database to find this man, but the picture was too grainy. The explosion had damaged the contrast of the video they were able to pull. These three stills were the best images they had of that night, and still, all they'd been able to determine was that he was probably under 30 and ethnic. Was he the Bomber, or just an associate of Cat's?

Spencer shook his head, his hair falling over his eyes. It was too late. His brain had felt like it was slogging through mud lately, and he had no idea what to make of any of this. He pushed the three photos back into the file and traced his finger over the mugshot he had paper-clipped into the front of the folder.

He paused, fingers resting on her hair, then whispered into the dark office. "I will find you, Cat Adams. And when I do, I will make you pay."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 – Homeward 

"Reid. My office. Now."

Spencer's head jerked up when as Hotch's voice called across the room. It was 4 in the afternoon that same day. Spencer had showered at the office gym that morning and changed his shirt, to at least give the appearance that he was keeping it together. He paused the video footage he was watching and walked across the office.

Hotch was leaning against the front of his desk when Spencer made it to the doorway. "Reid." His voice sounded exhausted. "I'm only going to say this once, and I expect you to comply." Spencer raised his eyebrows, a silent confirmation. "Reid… Spencer, just… Just go home."

Spencer opened his mouth to explain that he needed to be here, that there was something they were missing, and he could find it. Hotch cut him off by holding up a hand. "You are tired. It's showing in your work. Seriously. Just take one night off, that's all I'm asking. It's been two months, and we have other cases I need your full attention on." Hotch pushed himself off the desk and picked up some files. "I'm taking these over to Garcia's contact. By the time I'm back, I want you gone. And tomorrow, I want you working a profile on the Brooklyn UnSub." He stepped around Spencer's lanky body, and headed down the stairs.

Spencer groaned softly. Hotch didn't say stuff like that to him very often. He didn't even use Spencer's name often. He was being serious. Spencer understood the logic behind it though. He had been struggling; he just thought he had hidden it better.

He turned to head back down and he saw several agents in the bullpen look away quickly. They all knew what Hotch had told him, and they'd thought he would snap. He scowled. He may not have been the most approachable guy on the team, but he had always been nice to his coworkers. They clearly weren't expecting that to last forever. For a brief second, Spencer wondered if Lewis has said anything about him to the agents he was less familiar with.

Shaking off the paranoia, he grabbed Cat's file off his desk and a copy of the ever-growing profile he had been building for the Bomber. He put both into his satchel bag and slung it across his back. Grabbing his keys and his half-finished water, he left the office without talking to anyone.

* * *

The last stair heading up to his apartment creaked softly. As he shifted to get his key into the lock, the plastic bag with some bread from the corner store rustled against the mail he had gotten from his mail cubby downstairs. He opened the door and set down the bag by the coat rack. He pulled his shoes from his feet and dropped them next to the bag. When he closed the door, he checked that it was locked twice.

He grabbed the bag off the floor and walked over to his small kitchen. He had thought about moving last year. He had wanted a larger kitchen. Cooking at home, the few times a month he was able to, relaxed Spencer in a way not many things could. He'd looked at a few listings, but this apartment had the massive bookshelf, and nowhere else had been able to compare with that.

He glanced over to the bookcase, and his eyes fell on his desk. His personal laptop with a few notebooks were scattered on the table. He had been researching an aspect of chemical psychology for a paper he had been asked to co-author, but ever since the explosion, he hadn't been able to write.

He groaned. This was probably not what Hotch had meant when he had told Spencer to take the night off. He turned back to the kitchen. He had picked up the bread to make grilled cheese. It was something easy and quick, and then he would go straight to bed.

He dumped the mail and satchel onto the counter and opened up the fridge to grab a slice of cheese and some butter. He worked mindlessly. Pan, on. Bread, buttered. As he waited for sandwich to toast, he grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water from the sink. He took a long drink, and then rubbed his eyes. He was exhausted. As much as he would have kept working, this was probably for the best.

He flipped the grilled cheese and sighed. Keep this up, and he would probably end up overworked and dead. _What use would he be to his mom then?_

He grabbed a plate from the clean dish rack in the sink and dumped the grilled cheese on. He checked that the stove was off, twice, and then sat at the counter. The first bite of the cheese-filled sandwich was warm and comforting. He needed this.

He flipped through the mail on the counter. Junk mail outnumbered the bills as usual. He was about to push it all into the recycling bin under the counter when he realized under the mail pile was a thick, padded envelope. It was heavy too, for a piece of mail. In compact, handwritten letters, it was addressed to S. Reid, Apartment 2A. No return address. He reached across the counter for the knife he has used to cut his sandwich in half and slit the envelope open. He turned it over, and a small black tablet phone fell out.

Spencer's mind was immediately running a minimum of eight different scenarios at once. He picked it up and noticed a yellow post-it note on the back. In the same compact letters, it said only "Call Me."

Spencer frowned. This could easily be a trick. Or a prank. Or something far more nefarious from one of the many criminals he had dealt with. He paused. His home address wasn't on file with the BAU. In fact, the only address he had ever used on written documentation was his childhood home. This had to be from someone he knew.

Cautiously, he tapped the home button on the phone. The screen was blank, cleared of all apps, except for the phone button. He tapped it. A previous call list opened, and it was blank except for one number saved under the contact name "Call Me." He took a deep breath. This could be one of the stupidest things he had ever done. He should just wait, and take it into work tomorrow. Someone would be able to spoof the cellphone and he could trace whoever sent this. He set the phone down on the counter, but heard a small _beep_. His finger had accidentally brushed against the contact name, and it was dialing. _Shiiiit. End the call. End the call_. He quickly tapped the red "End Call" option and took a deep breath. His heart was racing.

Then, the phone rang, vibrating against the counter. One ring. Two rings. Spencer, as if he was a bystander watching his body move, saw his hand move to answer the call. He swiped and the ringing stopped. He cautiously lifted the phone to his ear, scarcely breathing. His heart was pounding now and he could hear it in his ears.

"Hello?" His voice was soft but he managed to keep it steady.

"Hi Spencer. We need to talk."

The voice was clear. The phone fell out of his hand, dropping to the floor under his seat. He may have only spent an hour with her, but he could have placed her voice anywhere. His eyes flickered down to the file that had slid out from his satchel when he threw it down. Her defiant eyes stared back up at him. It was Cat.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 – Warning

Spencer's eyes were locked on the phone where it had fallen.

He was panicking. Cat Adams, who had completely vanished two months ago, said she needed to talk to him. Cat Adams, arguably one of the country's deadliest hitmen, had sent him a phone. Cat Adams, who he had gone toe-to-toe with and lost, knew where he lived.

He hesitantly picked up the phone and pressed the screen to switch the call to speaker. Should he record this on his own phone? He fumbled with his bag to find his cell.

"Did you drop the phone?" He could practically hear her eyes rolling. "Did I really surprise you that much?" Her tone was mocking.

Spencer took a shaky breath. He wasn't sure what to do. He pulled his own phone slowly from his satchel and pulled open Garcia's contact page. He could text her and see if she could trace the call. Before he could begin to type, Cat spoke again.

"Look, Spence, I know you're listening. I can hear you breathing." She paused, and her voice softened. "Fine. Just listen. Please. You are in more danger than you know."

He couldn't stop the words. "Why the _fuck_ are you calling me, Cat?"

Silence.

"Cat?"

"I meant what I said before, Spencer. I really was sorry it happened that way… It's just…" Her voice trailed off. Spencer frowned. This felt like a manipulation, but what would the purpose be? There was no reason for Cat to call him. She shouldn't want to talk to anyone at the BAU, especially since she must have known they were actively attempting to track her every move. He heard a small cough, like she had just cleared her throat. When she spoke, her voice was quick, and Spencer could barely follow what she was saying,

"Something will happen, tomorrow, at the BAU office. You need to be careful. Maybe don't go in. Take a day off. You've spent enough nights there this month, your boss won't mind if you take some time." He heard a shout in the background of the call, and her voice got quieter. "He is focusing on your team now. He thought Garcia would be fun side game, but he's going to make you all a part of the plan. Spencer. You need to stay away tomorrow. I can't say any more. I have to go. But please, Spence, I think somehow I pulled you into this, and I'm sorry."

The phone beeped softly once and the line went dead.

She had spoken so quickly, Spencer hardly understood what she was saying. If he hadn't known what she was capable of, he would have thought her voice sounded almost… scared.

He stared down at the phone on the counter, then at his phone in his hand. He had to call Hotch, Garcia, someone. Something about Cat's tone, though, had him questioning years of training.

 _Something at the BAU office, tomorrow. Shit_. Were she and Bomber planning to attack the building? But then why warn Spencer? Surely they knew he'd immediately call the team to warn them. Was this a strange mind game of Cat's? For every scrap of information he'd been able to collect about her, he didn't really know anything about her.

Spencer groaned and pushed his half-eaten sandwich away from him, standing slowly. He pulled his bag and Cat's phone off the counter, and walked to his apartment door, grabbing his keys. He flipped to Hotch's contact information in his phone, and dialed it, leaving his apartment quickly.

* * *

It was noon. Spencer was across the street watching the office building intently. Hotch had let his superiors know about the threat, but in Spencer's opinion, they hadn't taken it seriously at all. Hotch told Spencer they'd ensured most high ranking officials wouldn't come to the building today, but they would continue like it was a normal day.

He'd allowed Spencer to take two lower ranking agents with him to watch the entryway for Cat or anyone who looked like the young Asian man who had helped her escape that night. Honestly, Spencer had felt the exchange had been patronizing. Hotch and Lewis had clearly both thought Spencer had made up the call from Cat, either out of paranoid delusion or stress. To be honest, their reactions did make sense. They had no reason to think someone as dangerous as Cat would send Spencer a phone instead of just killing him. Still, he had given the phone to Hotch, who had promised he would have it couriered to Penelope as soon as possible.

Spencer tapped his paper coffee cup impatiently, glancing down the street as inconspicuously as he could. Suddenly, he felt the agent next to him move. He was young, early twenties. Spencer hadn't worked with him before today, but had seen him around the BAU in the last few months. A new transfer, he assumed. He turned to see the man had set down his paper and was staring intently at a car that had just pulled up. "Reid. The kid getting out of that car. I think that's the kid Agent Garcia brought in a while ago. I thought he was in protective custody."

Spencer stood quickly, which caused the other agent with them to automatically jump to his feet as well, looking for danger. Spencer motioned once with his hand for them to follow. He walked quickly to the vehicle. "Hey!"

The kid was closing the driver's side door, but jumped slightly at Spencer's shout. His head jerked around and he looked into Spencer's eyes.

The agent next to Spencer let out a low whistle. "Holy shit, kid."

The Snowman's eyes were sunken and red. His skin was tingled with a grey pallor, and he had dark blotches on his neck and arms that traveled across his body into his shirt. "Agent… Agent Reid…." He took a step towards the three agents, but stumbled and fell to his knees. His body shuddered in a wrenching cough, and Spencer noticed a small spittle of blood forming at his lips.

"Help him." Spencer was surprised his voice managed to stay so level as he motioned the agents on either side of him forward towards the young boy. They both rushed towards him and Spencer looked towards the glass doors of the office. Waving his arm at the security guard stationed outside, he called across the plaza. "Call medical! We have a situation!"

The guard started, and rushed over, barking something into his radio. Spencer turned and knelt by the Snowman. "You'll be okay, kid. We have help on the way."

The kid's bloodshot eyes met Spencer's. "You…you need…." His voice was weak, and Spencer could tell he was struggling to stay awake. The kid reached into his pocket and pulled out a USB drive. "Take…." He pressed it into Spencer's hand and let out another painful sounding cough. He slumped down onto one of the agent's shoulders, his eyes drooping.

"Ambulance will be here in 3 minutes." The guard had arrived to them, standing over Spencer's shoulder. "Anything else I need to—"

"Call Agent Hotch, BAU." Reid's eyes didn't leave the Snowman's body as he barked out an order. He stuffed the USB into his pocket and pulled off his sweater vest. He formed it into a small, soft ball to place under the boy's head. He motioned for the agents to move away. If this kid was sick, he didn't want to risk either of the agents catching whatever he had.

The kid's breathing had grown to sporadic, quick pants. Spencer was about to tell one of the agents to hurry up to the office to grab Hotch when the boy's body seized up and his back arched up, away from the pavement. For five long, agonizing seconds, every muscle in his body had flexed up, fighting whatever had been affecting him. Then he collapsed to the ground and his breathing went silent.

Spencer wouldn't need to wait for the medical team to arrive to know that the Snowman was dead.

* * *

 _AN: Hi all! I hope that you're enjoying this so far… This was the last chapter I had pre-written, so the gaps between updates might be longer now. Please be patient and subscribe to the story so you can get updates when I post. Thanks, and much love -A_


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Spencer hadn't noticed how empty the conference room was until Lewis cleared her throat, causing him to look up from his hands. Only she and Hotch remained, and both of them were looking at him with varied degrees of concern. He looked back down.

"Agent Ballard just called from the hospital. They couldn't help him. He was dead on arrival." Lewis's voice was level, but he could tell she was worried. Whether it was for herself or their team, he wasn't sure. The embarrassment of having a civilian their team was protecting die on their doorstep wouldn't look kindly on the BAU to any higher-ups who would be briefed on the situation.

Hotch looked over to her. "We weren't able to contact his custody agents. I've sent people over but…" He trailed off. They all knew the custody agents wouldn't have willingly let the Snowman leave.

Lewis paused. "Should we contact Garcia's handler?"

"Already have." Hotch shifted in his seat. "Reid. What did you know about this?"

Spencer looked up to meet Hotch's eyes. He was surprised by the accusation in them. "Like I said last night. Cat Adams contacted me. She said something would be happening here today, and that I should take the day off." Hotch raised a single eyebrow. "That's it. If I'd known anything more, I would have told you." Spencer struggled to keep his voice calm. Were they actually thinking he had known what would happen to that poor kid?

Lewis cut off whatever Hotch's reply would have been. "We know, Spencer. We believe you. It's just," she paused, choosing her words carefully, "it's hard to understand why she would contact you."

"I don't know." Spencer ground out.

"Have you had any other contact with her?"

Spencer took a slow breath. "If I'd known anything more, I would have told you." He repeated. "I called you the second I got off the call with her. You really think I would have spoken with her and not told you?" His voice had started to rise at the end, and he clenched his hands together.

Hotch lifted both his hands in surrender. "Calm down Reid, no one was suggesting anything like that. We just want to make sure we have the facts before making our next move."

"And I've given them to you, as best as I know!"

Lewis shot a look at Hotch. "Spencer, we know. Neither of us is questioning you."

Before she could say anything else, Hotch's cell rang. "Agent Carson." He held the phone up to his ear. "Did you find them? How are they?" He paused, listening, and then groaned. "I'm not sure what else I would have expected. Well, make sure the house is swept before you take care of the bodies." He paused again, and then barked out his goodbyes.

"Snowman's handlers were shot. They are dead, all three of them. I'll head out there now." He rose from the table.

Lewis sighed wearily and nodded. "Call Ballard and Smith. They can head over straight from the hospital. I briefed them before they went with Spencer this morning. They could both use some field time now that they are in our unit."

Hotch nodded once in agreement and walked from the room, already on the phone again. Lewis rubbed a hand against her left temple. "Spencer, would you feel safe going back to your apartment tonight? We could put you up in a hotel, maybe, or a safe house."

Spencer looked at her incredulously. "I'm not leaving. This must have something to do with the hitman network. I've been researching them for months. If anyone can piece this together, it's me."

Lewis shook her head. "Spencer, you need rest. We won't even have a toxicology report from the Snowman until tomorrow. Once we have that, you are welcome to come back, but for now, I need you to get some sleep." She paused, standing up and gathering a few files from the conference table. "I know Hotch tried to get you to go home yesterday and you ended up coming right back. When did you last sleep?"

Spencer winced. She was right, as usual. "Fine. But call me as soon as you hear anything from the M.E."

Lewis smiled softly, nodded once, and left Spencer alone in the room. Groaning, he pushed back from the table. He grabbed his keys and bag from his desk and headed home.

* * *

Spencer flopped onto his sofa. His head felt like it was underwater. The entire drive home had been in slow motion. He felt like there was a deep pit inside his stomach and a rush of nausea ran through him.

He lay on the couch for a few minutes, his eyes closed. He knew his body was exhausted, and he expected sleep to come quickly, but his mind couldn't shut down. The Snowman's handlers had been shot, but he knew from Cat's profile that it probably wouldn't have been her who killed them. She focused on individual targets and hit them from up close. She wouldn't have taken on three highly-trained agents in a gunfight. The Bomber wouldn't have handled the situation that way. But that only left the Sniper, and he was dead.

Spencer sat up quickly with a realization. They had only assumed the Sniper was dead. A man with a sniper rifle had been with the Snowman when they recovered him, but… Spencer's brain had jumped into overdrive.

The body of the man who they had presumed to be the Sniper was identified as Jack Nelson, a former Marine who had received a dishonorable discharge after causing a mission failure in Iraq. He had returned to his wife and two young children, but according to his wife, he had come back with a completely different personality. Then, he had quickly disappeared again. When they had brought her in to be interviewed, she told them that she had started receiving deposits into their bank account. She had thought he was working through some sort of PTSD, and wanted to distance himself from his family until he felt he was in control again, but was still working somewhere nearby to support her. The BAU had seen that Nelson's timeline of when he came back from his tour matched the timeline of earlier assassinations they presumed were the Sniper's hits. It had fit together perfectly, so they had left it at that.

A week ago, Spencer had gotten an email from her, but he hadn't paid close attention to it. He had already moved on to focus on developing a stronger profile for the Bomber and chasing down Cat. He pulled it up on his phone.

 _Mr. Reid –_

 _I told Agent Hotch I'd contact you if I found any more information about Jack. This morning, there was a deposit from Jack. Over $3 million, which will have us set for life._

 _Have you been able to find him? I don't know how he is getting this kind of money, or why the FBI is looking into him, but please find him. We miss him._

 _Please let me know if I can help in any other way,_

– _Kate Nelson_

He sighed. Hotch had been the one to interview her, but he had given her Spencer's contact information. Apparently, he had failed to tell the Sniper's wife why they were looking into him, and that they had already found him dead, holed up with a kidnapped teenager and a chemical weapons expert.

He rubbed his head and reread the email. A new deposit? How could that be if Jack was already dead? He set his phone down, and leaned into a pillow. His mind began to twist together hints, but before he could realize anything conclusive, sleep claimed him.

The early morning sun warmed Spencer's face as he woke slowly. He glanced at his watch. 5:30. He'd gotten over twelve hours of sleep, which was the longest he'd had in the last month. He stifled a yawn and pulled himself up. As he moved to stand up, he felt something digging into his upper leg. Reaching down, he felt something small and metal inside his pocket. The Snowman's flash drive, he remembered. Yesterday's memories flowed through his mind quickly and he winced. Whatever had happened to that poor kid, there wouldn't have been a cure, even if they'd gotten him to the hospital sooner. He couldn't feel guilty about it, not when he had too many other things to focus on. Guilt like that would only cloud his mind.

He stood and moved to his desk, turning on his laptop, then hesitated. He should take this directly back to the BAU. The way Hotch and Lewis had questioned him, they would think it was weird for Spencer to have yet another piece of evidence handed directly to him. He looked down at his watch again. He could take a quick shower and head back over before Lewis even got in for the day.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 - .mov

The young man blinked owlishly at the camera lens. He took a deep breath and lifted up the letter, beginning to ready in a steady voice.

"Dear Penelope Garcia and her friends at the BAU." He paused and looked at something behind the camera. Something rustled and an old wrinkled hand with tan skin and bright red fingernails handed him a newspaper. "This is today's paper." He held it up so the lens could focus on the date.

"Later today, I will be arriving at the FBI offices. You will not see this message until I have already," another pause, "died."

"They knew you would find me, Penelope. I am younger, less experienced than their previous… case manager. It was a set up, all of it. The two men who were there, those aren't the Sniper or the Chemist." He frowned, looking at the next line. "I should really tell them this?" He asked someone behind the camera. He must have gotten a response because he looked back into the lens, then continued reading.

"As of today, they have a new Snowman. I am here to transfer some sensitive files to him." A hushed voice murmured something behind the camera. "The Chemist would like me to inform you that they have a new site and will continue to do their work. You will never catch them." He looked back at the letter.

"Due to my continued cooperation, both during the time when you 'rescued' me and now, my family will remained unharmed and will receive a payment of $20 million upon my successful delivery of this message. Please understand, I was never kidnapped by the network, I chose to work with them. I apologize for misleading you, Penelope."

A young Asian man walked next to the boy and knelt by his side. He injected a small syringe into the boy's leg and the boy's face twisted in pain.

* * *

"That's it? Is there anything more?" Garcia's voice filled the conference room. They had set up a video-conference through a patched line so she would be able to examine the contents of the USB with them.

"There are two other videos. Jack Nelson and Artie Copula agreeing that they will keep up the charade of being the Sniper and the Chemist if captured until they die." Lewis was all business. She had already pulled files they had made on Nelson and Copula when they had identified their bodies.

Copula was a low-level mob member who had gotten into trouble a few years back and had been in hiding. In his video, he explained he was doing this to give his daughter a chance to start over and get out of the mob run areas of their city.

Spencer had printed Kate Nelson's email when he had got in this morning, hoping they might be able to piece together a theory about the Sniper being alive. He hadn't expected the network to send a message handing them an already-solved jigsaw. This was the third time he'd seen the video, and it still caused a slight chill to run up his spine. This young boy had willingly joined a group of killers and had kept their secrets while he had been with the FBI. The BAU could have helped him if he'd given them that information. He rubbed at his eyes. This whole scenario was insane.

He had given some stills of the Asian man's face to the facial recognition team, and they were running searches now, but Spencer had a sinking feeling that if the network had been willing to show this man's face, there would be no record of him in any database.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 - Breadcrumbs

Spencer had stopped by the late-night coffee shop near his apartment. He had been going there more and more often, since the bombing. They were open until 2am, so when he couldn't sleep, he would walk there and get a decaf tea. The combination of the fresh air and herbal tea usually knocked him out when he got back into bed.

Tonight, though, he had gotten fully caffeinated coffee. It had been over 3 weeks since the Snowman had died. He had told Lewis when she had kicked him out of the office around 9 that he would go home to get some sleep, but he knew that he would be up until past midnight trying to find anything tying Copula and Nelson. They must have a contact in common, but so far, every trail had led to a dead end.

He took another long drink and set it down on his counter. He had files spread out and was rereading through Copula's criminal record. He finished his coffee and slid off the seat to throw it away. Cardboard sleeve and lid to recycling, coffee-stained cup to trash. He slid the sleeve off and was about to throw the cup away when he noticed a small, folded post-it note that had been attached under the sleeve. He folded it down, and there, in thin purple ink, was a note.

 _{C's son: Zhoufeng Chen. Goes by Zachary. UCLA.}_

Spencer stared at the note for a full minute before pulling it off the cup. It was the same compact handwriting that had been used on the envelope to him from Cat. How could she have possibly gotten this note onto his coffee cup?

Before he realized what he was doing, he was out of his apartment building, racing back to the coffee shop. He burst in through the door, probably looking like a complete maniac, and rushed up the barista. He slammed the post-it down on the counter. "Why did my coffee have this note?"

She took a step back, her eyes wide in shock. She looked down at the note and blinked in recognition. "Oh! Spencer?"

He glared at her and spoke slowly. "Why. Did it have. A note?"

She laughed nervously. "Your girlfriend Catherine came in the other day. Said she was making a scavenger hunt for your anniversary, and the next time you came in we should stick this note on your coffee." She opened a drawer under the register and pulled out a small picture of Spencer. "She gave us this so we would know who you were but I work enough nights, I already knew." She smiled brightly. "Were you surprised? It must be some crazy chase she has you on. None of us here could figure out what kind of anniversary clue that would be."

Spencer smiled tightly. "Very surprised, yes." He turned to leave, then paused. "Did she say anything else? About the hunt, I mean?"

The barista thought for a moment and then her eyes lit up. "Oh yeah! She said if you came in asking about her, we should give you another coffee, extra shot of espresso. She's already paid for it, if you want?" Spencer frowned in thought. "She said you'd need to be up all night trying to finish up the clues she'd left. Hang on, I'll just be a minute, I'll brew a fresh batch."

The barista turned to face the espresso machine, and by the time she looked back up, Spencer was gone.

* * *

Spencer was sitting outside his apartment on a bench, folding and unfolding the post-it note, looking at it without really seeing it. Cat had gone through a lot of trouble to get this to him, but why? He closed his eyes and he could picture her coy, confident expression. What would she tell him if she were here? Not the truth straight out, he knew that much.

He should take the note to the BAU. That was the only real choice. But this was the third thing he would be bringing them directly from the hitman, and he had seen Hotch's eyes when he had delivered the flash drive that day. Hotch wasn't sure what to make of Spencer being the recipient of all the messages. And the story of _how_ Spencer got this note was so ridiculous, it would sound made up.

He unfolded the note and reread it. It couldn't hurt to look up the name. Then, if it was nothing, he could just ignore it. Resolving himself, he stood and headed back up to his apartment.

He turned on his laptop, opened up Google, and typed in "Zachary Chen UCLA." Several articles from the UCLA Chemistry Department were the first few links, then a Facebook profile. He clicked the Facebook page. There was no profile picture, but there was a comment at the top of the feed that caught Spencer's eye. " _Hey Z - Missed u today in lab. Assuming u lost ur phone AGAIN since I haven't heard from u since ur mom came into town. Kappa party tonight, u in?"_

He went back to the search results and clicked the top article. **Junior Chem Team Wins Regionals – Good Luck in DC!** He skimmed the article. It was about a group of students who had won with a new organic acid they had created. The photo had a group of smiling students in their early twenties huddled around a trophy. The caption caught Spencer's eye. _Left to right: Kate Berkshire, Adam McKinnon, Jason Clark, Kristin Lee, and Derrick Howe. Not pictured: Zach Chen._

He clicked back to the main page and moved to the next article from a few years ago. **New UCLA Record: 2 Freshman Headed to CalChem Comp** The header photo was of a poster with a beaker set up under it. He clicked to the next picture. A headshot of a young blond man popped up. The last picture was of a UCLA lab. Spencer scrolled down the article to see the editor's note: _Jackson Howe, 19 and Zack Chen, 18 (no picture provided) will be at CalChem Comp March 19_ _th_ _._

Again and again, each article Spencer clicked touted Zach as a high-achieving student on campus in the chemistry department, but not a single one had a picture of him. Whoever this kid was, he was a ghost online.

He went back to the Facebook profile and clicked the top comment again. Posted by Adam McKinnon, over a month ago. It was the same name of the kid who had gone to a competition with him. He clicked Adam's profile picture to see a grinning kid in a frat shirt, posed on a boat with two girls. He moved down Adam's profile, skimming comments about all the sick parties he'd been to. This kid posted a ridiculous number of photos. Just as Spencer was about to give up and head back to the search results, he saw a post. " _phone fell into the lake LOL new number 202-555-0187 HMU ladies"_

Spencer stared at the message for a second. Did this kid really put his phone number out for a complete stranger to find? He hesitantly pulled out his cell and dialed the number. The phone rang a few times and then a man's voice yelled over loud, thumping music. "Yo, this is Adam. If you are trying to get in, the basement door is open."

"Hi, Mr. McKinnon? Do you have a moment to talk?"

The phone went silent for a second. Spencer could hear the music being muffled and growing softer. Suddenly he heard a door slam and the music was gone. "Hello, Dr. Kendrick? Sorry, I could barely hear you in there. I wasn't expecting your call back so quickly. Were you able to read my theory on internally ignitable acids?" Spencer was silent for a moment. Adam had gone from party boy to completely serious and focused in less than fifteen seconds.

"I'm sorry, Mr. McKinnon, you may have misheard me. My name is Dr. Spencer Reid. I'm calling regarding a competition you were in last year."

Adam was quiet for a second. "Dr. Reid, I am so sorry you had to hear me yell like that. What is this about?"

Spencer flipped back to the article. "I saw you were a part of the UCLA National Chemistry Innovations team. I was hoping you'd have some time in the future to talk about your work." A small, white lie, but it would get Adam talking.

He didn't need to even think about a profile Adam would fit into; Spencer had known people like Adam his whole life: students who were able to party hard and have a social personality, and could quickly turn that into schmoozing and charm to get ahead. If offered an opportunity, they would jump on it quickly, and would be willing to throw people under the bus.

Spencer continued. "I was reading through the work your team had submitted, and I had some questions regarding several paid internships my company is offering. I've tried to call Zachary Chen and," his eyes flicked back to the article, "Derrick Howe, but neither have responded."

Adam scoffed quietly. "Derrick might be worth talking to, but Zach? He's fallen off the face of the earth. What questions did you have? I'd be able to—"

"What do you mean? He's disappeared?" Spencer cut him off.

"Umm… Well, he's stopped coming to class his senior year, so he _clearly_ isn't serious about his work. He said his mom needed help with something, and he was going to go help her, but I assumed he just meant for a weekend or something. So anyways, about our paper, I think you'd like to know that—"

"Do you have any photos of him?"

Adam went quiet for a second. _Way to be too eager,_ Spencer berated himself. "Uh. Maybe. Probably. I take a lot of pictures at Chemistry Department events, and he presented last year. Of course, I presented too. Before Zach. I can send you pictures of the event, and my slides, if you want them."

Spencer tapped his finger against the desk lightly. "Of course, Mr. McKinnon. I'd like to see those. If you can include any pictures you have of Zachary's presentation, I would be very grateful. You are really showing initiative and drive, which we are always looking for here."

"Of course! Thank you Dr. Reid. I will send those right away. I look forward to talking with you again about this opportunity."

Spencer hung up the phone without saying goodbye. He typed his email address into a text message and sent it to Adam's phone. He frowned at how easily the lies had spilled from his mouth. On the other hand, he could tell from the boy's voice that Adam had been drunk enough to not question Spencer's requests, so it was likely he wouldn't remember the conversation tomorrow.

A moment later, Spencer's laptop pinged with a new email notification. Adam was quick. He'd probably saved the photos on his phone. Spencer scrolled through them. They were all of Adam, presenting to a small group of older professors. The final one, though, made Spencer sit up straight, taking a deep inhalation.

There was no mistaking it. Spencer had seen him earlier that day in the conference room. This was the same young man who had killed the Snowman. But that wasn't the reason for Spencer's shock. He pulled out the printed still he had taken from the police van footage. It was blurry, but now that he knew what Zach looked like, there was no mistaking it. He was the same man who had freed Cat during the bombing.

And for some reason, Cat had just handed his carefully hidden identity to Spencer on a silver platter.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9 - Raid

Hotch was watching him closely, Spencer knew. He glanced up from his desk for the third time that day to see Hotch standing in the doorway of his office, openly studying him. He kept his face blank, nodded once at him, and went back to the file he had open on the screen.

That morning, Spencer had called a meeting first thing, saying he'd been reading some articles about science prodigies, and stumbled across that photo. He'd been able to play it off as a lucky find, and no one had openly questioned it. While Hotch hadn't actually said anything, Spencer knew the agent was still suspicious that Cat had contacted him. It made sense, though, that no one was going to check up on Spencer's when they had a fresh lead to follow. Hotch may have been wary of Spencer's contact with Cat, but the photo spoke for itself and he wasn't about to pass up an opening the network had left.

Now that they had a name, the BAU had a group digging into anyone associated with it. There were a remarkable number of Zachary Chen's who had recently gotten apartments on the east coast. Hotch had them start to search within 200 miles from the safe house where they'd "rescued" the Snowman. Even if the Snowman wasn't being held against his will, the real hitmen wouldn't have gone that far away from him.

It was ten days after he'd gotten Cat's clue when the BAU team found something useful. There was a townhouse outside of the city that had recently been leased to a new tenant Z. Chen. The team had been able to pull utility reports from the property that showed a dramatic spike in both electric and water usage from previous owners. It wouldn't be noticeable if you weren't looking for it, but the usage matched utility reports for drug houses. A large influx of people or a large amount of product being created would cause a spike like that. Well, that or Z. Chen took 10 showers a day.

"Agent Reid, do you foresee any issues with this course of action?"

Hotch's voice cut into his thoughts and Spencer's head shot up, looking around the room. Fourteen of the BAU team members were huddled around the table in the dark room, staring at a projected image of a map. His eyes met Lewis's as she frowned slightly and turned back to Hotch.

"Let's proceed then. We move at 0900 tomorrow. Please be on time. I'm talking to you, Agent Ballard." The tension in the room broke as the younger agent held up his hands in joking defeat and several people laughed.

"Jesus, you're late to one interdepartmental meeting, and you never hear the end of it." He chuckled as another agent threw a pen at him. The lights came on and the team began to filter out of the room, but Ballard stayed seated and looked at Spencer. "Agent Reid, can I talk to you for a moment?" Spencer nodded and began to restack the papers in front of him as the young man spoke. "We never were properly introduced, since my first days with the BAU were… dramatic. Anyways, I just wanted to say, and I know you've probably heard this before, but I am a huge fan of your work. It's the reason I studied psychology to begin with." He paused. "I know you probably don't hold me in the highest regard since I'm so young to be on this team, but—"

Spencer cut him off. "I was young when I started here too. You're a good agent, Ballard. I heard from Lewis that you dug through the utility reports that may have isolated Chen. Don't carry a chip on your shoulder about your age." He stood, scooping up the papers. "And don't look at me as your role model here. Just focus on what you can do best to help the team." He turned and left the room quickly, leaving the young agent staring after him.

"Okay. Well. I'll see you tomorrow Agent Reid!" Ballard's cheery voice chased after Spencer. Spencer wasn't sure why, but there was something about Ballard that made him uneasy.

He was headed back to his desk when he saw Lewis leaning against the wall outside the conference room. "That boy has potential," she said softly. "But he feels like a young prodigy who has to prove his worth. Now where have I heard that story before? If only he had a mentor…."

Spencer shook his head and gave her a shaky smile. "He's a good agent. He saw the Snowman before I did that day, you know? He'll be fine." He paused. "Is he paired up with Smith for tomorrow?" She nodded. "Good. That's a good fit. Maybe he'll temper Smith's impulses to run into a situation head on."

Lewis took the papers he was holding and motioned her head towards the door. "You heading out? I'll see you tomorrow morning." Her tone didn't leave room for argument, so she didn't wait for his reply before walking away.

Spencer chuckled softly and headed to his desk.

* * *

It was a rainy morning, one where fog still clung to the road as the sun rose. Spencer was in the passenger seat of one of the black vans heading out of town. The driver of the van was someone Spencer recognized, but not as a member of BAU. He'd come into the office to speak with Rossi on occasion, and was primarily a field agent.

"You okay?" The man's raspy voice broke the silence they'd been driving in. He'd noticed Spencer's gaze out of the corner of his eye.

Spencer nodded and looked out the windshield. They were approaching the exit they needed. "Take the next right."

A radio from the van behind them echoed Spencer's directions and the caravan moved off the interstate into a quiet suburb. Eventually the van stopped a block away from the row of townhouses they would be approaching. "Swat team first, then field agents. Subdue anyone in the domicile. We have four BAU agents here who will be giving directives as needed."

The sharp voice of the squadron leader was answered by dozens of boots hitting the pavement as they exited the van. "As a reminder to your briefing, these targets are highly dangerous. Do not touch any liquids or powders on site." A pause, and then, "Let's move. Gamma hold the back. All other teams, with me."

Spencer shifted in his seat as he heard the men move. _In two minutes they would be in position. Another two, and they would have fully swept the house. Add another minute to report back…_ In five minutes, they would know if this was correct, and if the man and Cat were inside the building.

He tapped his fingers on his thigh impatiently. There was something about this that didn't seem right. Was it just paranoia from the lack of sleep lately? He hadn't been home in two days. He was regretting it now, because his normal focus was hazy, barely in his reach.

Suddenly, several gunshots and yells echoed around the corner. Without hesitation, the agent who had been driving was out of the car, his weapon pulled, heading towards the house. Spencer double-checked that his vest was fully fastened, then followed the agent, moving carefully. Across the street, he could see agents Ballard and Smith mirroring them, guns drawn.

The house, Spencer was sure, had been nice at one point. The door was smashed in, but the hallway had several paintings and a rich, burgundy rug. Another gun shot brought Spencer out of his daze, and he looked at the agent ahead of him, holding up a hand signaling Spencer stay still.

"Don't touch me! No! My Zhoufeng!" A heavily accented woman's voice Spencer didn't recognize echoed throughout the building. As soon as Spencer was about to take another step forward, the walls of the building shook as an explosion went off at the back of the building. Spencer stumbled back from the wave of heat that pushed its way through the house. He pulled the agent with him and moved quickly out of the building.

"Reid!" Ballard's scream from across the street drew Spencer's gaze. Ballard was pointing to a middle-aged white man who was carrying an elderly woman over his shoulder in a full out sprint away from the building towards an alleyway.

Spencer nodded and took off after them, but when he turned the corner, they were gone. "Fuck." He hissed out, raising his gun and scanning the alley. Ballard, Smith, and the field agent were there seconds later.

"Where'd they go?" Smith's voice whispered over Spencer's shoulder.

Spencer frowned and moved slowly through the alley before reaching a dead end.

"Where'd they go?" Ballard repeated Smith's query. "What the hell? I saw them run this way."

Spencer frowned, lowering his gun slightly, still facing the back of the alley. "Who were they?"

"No idea. They were from the townhouse though. The woman was screaming about a baby, I think, and the man pulled her out of the window onto a balcony right as the bomb went off. The balcony fell from the building and then…" He motioned to the alley. "Apparently they vanished."

Spencer rubbed his temples. "I'm guessing that was the Bomber, then. Shit."

* * *

The debriefing had been tedious.

Two agents had managed to find Zachary and back him into a corner. Unfortunately, he had thrown acid onto one of the agents, blinding him instantly. The agent fired his weapon, catching Zachary in the neck, killing him almost instantly. An elderly Asian woman had leapt from the closet and injected the other agent with a syringe, screaming for Zhoufeng in Chinese. A man estimated to be in his late forties grabbed her and blew up part of the building to aide their escape. The blinded agent would survive, although not recover, but six other agents had died in the raid.

So now they knew who the Chemist and the Bomber were… There'd been no sign of Cat or the Sniper, the entire network was alive, and their one true lead had been killed. It was one step forward but several steps back.

Spencer sighed and rubbed the back of his neck as he entered his apartment building. The whole day had been a disaster of a mission, and he had nothing to show for it. He was beginning to wonder if the network would be impossible to pin down. "Not impossible." He muttered to himself, wearily heading up the stairs. He reached the top and took a soft breath in alarm.

His apartment door was wide open.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10 – Visitor

Spencer set down his bag in the hall and stepped over the threshold of his apartment cautiously. He felt the wall next to the door until he reached his side table where he would usually keep his keys. Next to the door, he kept a letter opener. He felt around on the table carefully, his eyes never leaving the main room of the apartment. Was someone was still here?

He felt the cool metal brush against his fingertips, but as he picked it up, he heard a loud crash in the bathroom. Someone let out a soft cry and he heard the shower rod being pulled down. He moved quickly but quietly, muffling his footsteps as he approached the bathroom door.

It was half closed, but he could see a leg on the ground. Whoever it was, they were sitting on his bathroom floor. He pushed the door open slowly, holding the letter opener above his shoulder, ready to stab the intruder.

"Spencer." Her voice was weak and her eyes were drooped halfway shut. Her short brown hair was pushed back from her face, damp from sweat. Cat was half passed out in his apartment.

He took a step back in alarm. His phone. He'd left it by the door when he set down his bag. Shit. He needed to call for backup now. He was about to make a dash for it when he heard her let out a soft moan. When he glanced back down at her, he noticed the usually pristine white cabinet doors were covered in bloody handprints. The contents of the drawers were strewn around her, and she had the shower curtain pressed into her side, like she was putting pressure on a wound.

She raised her head to look at him, and he noticed how dull her eyes were. She was dying. "Where….razor…" Her head started to sag back down and Spencer, without thinking, knelt down to hold up her head. When his fingers touched her skin, he felt an almost electric jolt rush through him. "Razor." She whispered again.

Spencer froze. If he helped her, what did that mean? Would he be betraying Penelope? His whole team? But on the other hand, he couldn't let someone die like this, no matter how evil they were. Her skin was colder than he imagined it would be, but still remarkably soft. He pushed back that strange, unbidden thought, and stood quickly. He opened the medicine cabinet above the sink and picked up his razor. What was her plan? Was her last living act going to be to slice Spencer across the throat with a razor blade?

He felt her small hand grip his calf. He looked down at her and realized how vulnerable she was at this moment. She may be an extremely deadly hitman, but she was also young woman who was dying, and he could save her. Hoping he wasn't making a huge mistake that would cost him his life, he let his arm sink down and held the razor to her shoulder. She reached up and took it, her blood-soaked fingers brushing against his. She brought the razor to her mouth and bit down on the side of the head, breaking off the plastic that held the blades together. She let her left hand lift off the shower curtain and carefully pinched one of the small blades out of the head.

Cat lifted the shower curtain off her side, and Spencer winced in shock. Her entire shirt was soaked in blood, but she must have pushed it up her chest before grabbing the curtain, because he could see her bare stomach. There was blood everywhere, but also a fist-sized amount of dark yellow puss slowly pulsating out of her side.

She looked up at Spencer. "You may…want to….look away…", she breathed out. Then, without hesitation, she looked down at her side and delicately placed the razor blade right above where the mass of puss was, and sliced down hard along the side of her torso.

It was like whatever dam was in place broke suddenly and a pink mixture of blood and puss flowed quickly out of her. Her entire body contorted in pain, but she didn't make a sound. She dug the razor deeper, then pulled it out and let it fall into the puddle of fluid next to her slumped body. She reached across her body with her right hand and stuck two fingers into the cut she had made between her ribs, twisting again in pain.

Spencer was frozen in place. He had never seen anything like this. She was simultaneously a delicate surgeon and a dying patient.

Suddenly, she let out a soft cry of pain and withdrew her fingers. Pinched between them was a bullet coated in blood. "Spencer." She dropped the bullet to the ground. Her voice was getting weaker, and he could barely hear her next words. "Vinegar, then baking soda. Just like... Science class..." Her head slumped to the right side of her body, and she collapsed sideways onto the ground at his feet.

He didn't even think about it. He stepped over her and moved mindlessly to the kitchen. He grabbed a large bottle of vinegar he kept in the pantry and the small box of baking soda he used to cleaning from under the sink. He turned to head back to the bathroom and froze. He could stop right here. He could just let her die.

His fingers still tingled from touching her face and he knew he couldn't let himself ask why he was doing this. He shook his head once and ran back to the bathroom.

Spencer knelt next to her body and opened the bottle of vinegar and placed it next to him. He poured the entire box of baking soda onto her side and then grabbed the vinegar, and poured it over her ribs. The reaction was instantaneous. The baking soda bubbled and flowed up out of her and her entire body snapped back. Her eyes were wide open and her mouth formed a silent scream. The bubbling slowed and the foam settled. Her face slumped back to the tile floor, and she stared at Spencer. He couldn't read her expression.

"I said vinegar, _then_ baking soda." Her voice, although soft, was less panicked. Her face twisted into a exhausted and sad mask, then she closed her eyes. "Can you pass me a towel?" She reached her left arm delicately past the foam covered wound and flopped it onto the ground next to Spencer's knee. He reached behind him and pulled his towel off the rack. Her hand lifted to reach for it, but then fell again to the ground. She winced softly with her eyes still closed.

Later, Spencer would look back at this moment and ask himself why he did it, but he would never be able to truly explain. He moved towards her and placed the towel on her side, wiping the blood-soaked foam from her cut. She stiffened for a second, like a wild animal that would lash out if you were trying to help them from a trap, but then relaxed again. Her fingers moved slowly, brushed up against his knee and then her hand rested on top of Spencer's calf. Her breathing slowed and he realized she'd passed out. She'd lost a fair amount of blood. There was still a good chance she would die here tonight.

He realized suddenly he hadn't spoken since he got home and he wondered what he should say if she ever woke up. He had so many questions. He also needed to call the BAU. But briefly, as he sat wiping away her blood, her hand wrapped around him, he wished he could freeze this moment in time. As soon as she woke up, everything would change. Their game of cat and mouse would be over, and Cat would be going to jail forever.

It was almost hypnotic, he thought, wiping the blood soaked towel over her wound again. At this rate, she'd get an infection. Fresh blood was starting to bubble up out of the wound. He rose slowly to his feet, trying not to wake her, and reached over her body to the medicine cabinet. He pulled out several large pieces of gauze and some tape, then sat down to face her. He put the gauze over the cut and she flinched in her sleep. He taped it down and then pushed back from her, leaning his back against the wall to watch her. Before he realized what was happening, Spencer eyes drifted shut, and his body mirrored hers, sleeping against the wall.

* * *

 _AN: Sorry it's been a painful amount of time since I've last updated. Thank you all so much for still reading when I update! -A_


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

He woke suddenly, jolting up from the wall in a panic. He looked down and saw the bathroom has still covered in blood. It hadn't been a dream. But Cat's body was gone. He moved quickly to his feet and rushed out of the room. He was almost to the front door where his phone was when he saw her. She was standing by the bookcase with her forehead pressed against the dark windowpane, looking down onto the street.

"You're awake." He winced at how dumb he sounded. Of course she was awake. _Way to state the obvious._

She turned slowly and her eyes were heavy. Her entire body was covered in flakey patches of dark brown dried blood. "Why?" She stared at Spencer intently, searching for something in his face.

He paused and looked at her. "Why what?"

"Why did you save me?" She moved her right arm across her body to hold where the wound was under her shirt.

"Why didn't you kill me? I know you've been watching me. I'm sure you could have." He kept his voice level and his face blank. Whatever tell she was looking for, she wouldn't find it.

She sighed heavily and turned back to the window. "It's raining."

He took a step towards her and she flinched. He froze. Something was wrong. She was…afraid? "Cat, who shot you?" Her entire body tensed. Even from across the room, he could tell she was trying to figure out a way to bolt. "Cat." His voice was softer now.

"Can I borrow a shirt?" She was still facing out the window. "I don't want them to see me like this when you arrest me."

He frowned in confusion. "Um. I guess. Sure." He turned to walk towards his room, then paused. "Promise you wont make a run for it when I leave." They stood for a minute in silence. Eventually, her stance relaxed.

If he hadn't been hyper-focused on her, he wouldn't have heard her whisper towards the window. "Where would I run to?"

He almost said something, but paused when he saw her shoulders start to shake. He knew she was crying. He turned away from her again and spoke with confidence he didn't feel. "You can take a shower. I don't want you getting blood on my clothes." He winced at how callus that sounded. He could care less about her blood, but he wanted her to stop crying. _Why did he care?_

Without looking back, he walked down the hall to his room. He closed the door and took a long shaky breath. What was he doing? Trying to comfort a murderer? He sat down on his bed and stared at his closet door, not really seeing it.

Spencer heard the water in the bathroom start running. Something had happened to Cat, something bad, and she had come to his apartment to look for supplies. That must mean something. At the very least, it meant she knew he wouldn't let her die. He groaned and lay back on the bed. How was he going to explain this to everyone at the office? "Oh, yeah, an insane hitman broke into my apartment when she was dying and I saved her life and then let her take a shower." He laughed out loud at how ridiculous it sounded.

He sat back up and looked in the mirror. He hadn't noticed, but he has covered in her blood too. He sighed and opened his closet, grabbing two black undershirts and a pair of slacks for himself. He thought for a minute, then reached into a drawer for a pair of old grey sweatpants he occasionally wore to bed if his other pajamas were in the wash. He changed quickly and sat back down on the bed. He should just call Hotch now and get it over with. He left the room, set the clothes for Cat outside of the bathroom, and went into the living room to get his phone.

His bag wasn't by the door. He remembered what had happened last night and opened the door to get his bag from the hallway. The bag wasn't there either, but there was a note on the door from his landlord. She had seen it and brought it down to her office. He frowned. She didn't usually get in until about 9 in the morning and judging from the windows, it was still the middle of the night. He glanced down at his watch. 1am. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. He'd have to keep Cat in his apartment for 8 hours until he could contact the BAU.

He went back in and locked the door behind him. He could still hear the shower running, so he sat on the sofa and stared at the hallway, waiting for her. Eventually, the mental exhaustion from the day overtook him, and he fell into a light sleep.

* * *

He smelled food. That was what pulled him out of sleep. He opened his eyes slowly and glanced around. The living room was dark. Someone must have turned the lights off. Who would do that?

He heard his fridge open and he startled as he remembered exactly who it was. Cat was in his apartment. Cat was in his apartment, and hadn't killed him yet. Cat was in his apartment…cooking? He blinked slowly as his eyes focused on the kitchen. She turned and saw he was awake. "You only have bread and cheese. I thought you'd be one of those people with all sorts of organic fruits and yogurt." She tilted her head and held up the package of cheese slices. "Want a grilled cheese?"

She was acting like nothing had happened to her. Like she hadn't almost just bled out in his bathroom, like he hadn't seen her cry by the window. He would have thought it was all a dream, except for her wet hair and his sweatpants. She had found a frying pan and was buttering up a slice of bread to put in it. He stood and walked over to the counter and sat down silently, staring at her. How was she able to act like everything was fine?

As if she had heard his thoughts, she suddenly looked up at him. She opened her mouth to say something, but her face suddenly twitched in pain and her hand went to her side. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Her face softened again and she went back to making the second sandwich. "I'll tell you. But I want to eat first."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Cat cut her sandwiches into triangles. He wasn't really sure why, but that detail stood out. Maybe it was the only real thing he knew about her. She cut the second sandwich on the cutting board and glanced up at Spencer. "Plates?" She asked softly. He pointed to a cupboard over the stove. She reached up the open it, then gasped and dropped her arm down, clutching at her side. "Fuck." She sunk to the ground and Spencer stood, moving quickly around the counter to kneel next to her.

"Ripped the stiches." She hissed out softly.

"Stiches?" Without stopping to question why, he lifted the hem of the shirt to see the cut. It was still covered in gauze, but some of the tap had peeled away and he could see a white plastic thread zigzagging through her skin to hold it together. "When did you…"

"I found a needle. Used some of your floss. Sorry. You didn't have a suture kit in your bathroom, and I didn't want to wake you up." She said it casually but he could tell there was something else she was trying to say. She paused, then looked him directly in the eyes. "Thank you. For not letting me die, I mean." Her voice cracked and she looked away. He noticed how small she looked in his clothes. She was tall, but so skinny she was drowning in them. She couldn't have been all that healthy before getting shot.

He sighed and stood. "Stay there." He kept an emergency medical bag in the hallway closet behind some old books. He dug around and pulled it out, bringing it back to the kitchen. Cat was still on the floor, holding the gauze against the cut. "I've never really used this…" He set the bag next to her, and she dug through it with one hand.

"Here." She pulled out a small plastic box and handed it to Spencer. Inside were about twenty small clear bags with curved needles and black thread in them. He looked at her, unsure of what to do. "It was hard enough doing this with one hand this first time." She spoke slowly, as if choosing her words carefully. "Would you be able to…" She trailed off, not looking at him.

He sat down next to her. "I don't really know how to use these."

"It's not too hard. Just make sure you get both sides of the skin, somewhat deep down." She pulled out the floss that had broken until the wound was wide open again. "And when if it hurts me, consider it vengeance for Garcia." She tried to keep her voice light, but her eyes were nervous.

He wasn't sure how to respond. He felt like she had been trying to make a joke, but it felt too real to both of them. He tore open the first package. He held the needle carefully and held her skin steady with this other hand. He could feel her whole body tensing, anticipating the pain. As the first needle went in, he heard her grit her teeth. "Tie a knot, not too tightly, and cut off the needle." He glanced up at her face. Her eyes were closed tight. He hurried and tied the knot.

"How many more?"

She glanced down at the cut. "At least ten." Her head pressed back against the cupboard and she closed her eyes again.

With each stitch, Spencer was feeling more and more confused. Cat was a monster, but she was also letting him cause her immense pain. Based on the type of person she was, he knew that letting someone touch her was a rare feat in Cat's world. She was someone who thrived on always being in control, but right now, she was completely at Spencer's mercy. He cut off the last needle and carefully ran a finger over the skin next to the cut. He looked up and realized her eyes were open and she was watching him carefully. They sat like that, looking at each other, for what felt like an eternity.

"I think you'll have to get the plates out." Cat broke the silence, still watching him closely. Relieved, Spencer stood and offered a hand to her. She looked at his hand, then up at him, raising a brow in surprise. "Force of habit?" She asked softly, not taking it. As he lowered his hand back to his side, she'd turned to put the box back into the medicine bag.

* * *

The grilled cheeses were cold by the time they'd started eating, but Spencer didn't care. He was glad to have something to focus on. They were sitting in the living room on opposite ends of the couch.

Cat put her plate down on the coffee table and turned to face him. "The Chemist."

He lowered the sandwich from his mouth. "What?"

"She's the one who shot me." Pause. "The bullets are a special design she's been working on. They're coated in an acid that will start to dissolve your organs, if the shot goes deep enough." Another pause. "She missed."

Cat ran her hand against the top of the couch, like she was examining the cushions. "She figured out I had told someone about Zach. No one else could have done it. It was only a matter of time." She brought her hand back down to her lap and looked at it. "I never should have gone back. I was trying to get a file from them."

She bit her lip and paused, then slowly raised her head. "They're planning something big." Another pause. "Look, I know you have no reason to trust me, and this is just going to confirm your thoughts about me. I became a contract killer because it was the only thing I was good at. When I started this, I was young, and stuck in a life I hated. I didn't know how to get out of it."

She stopped again and looked down at her hands, taking a shaky breath. "I'm not telling you this as an excuse. I just want you to understand. I didn't see another way out. A man approached me one night in a bar and offered me $1,000 to put a pill in a woman's drink. I knew it wasn't right, but I was desperate for money, so I did it. She fell off the barstool within seconds, and turned purple… She was dead before anyone could call 911. I left through the back into the alley that night, and the man was there. He offered me a place to stay, and told me I could have a new life if I followed him. So I did.

"He trained me. He was the person who taught me how to use a gun. He taught me how to hide your feelings and use people's emotions against them. He was like a father to me for over a year. Then one day, I woke up, and he was gone. He'd left me half a million dollars in cash, a gun, and the Snowman's contact information. I didn't see him again until about 4 months ago, when he had the Snowman call all of us together.

"He has a plan. It's elaborate, and I'm positive he only told us the bare minimum, so even I can't tell you the details. But my job was to ensure you thought he and the Chemist were dead. He wanted the FBI to think that until he was ready for the next phase. That's why I met with you that night. The Bomber was supposed to kill everyone in that building as soon as I left, but it didn't feel right. When I first got to the bar, I found the bomb and disconnected part of it, so if it did go off, it wouldn't hurt anyone unless they were right next to it."

Cat stopped and looked at Spencer carefully, her face slumping in exhaustion. "He says he's going to take down the heads of the government."

Spencer was trying to process her story. "So… you were trying to give me clues to, what, help take down the network?"

She shook her head slowly. "I don't care about the network. But I do care about innocent lives. Everyone I've taken a contract on deserved to die. The way our world works, justice doesn't always prevail, so people have to take it into their own hands. Or, you know, give me money to put it into my hands." Spencer opened his mouth to ask what she meant, but she held up a hand. "Look. I told you about Zach so you could get to the Chemist. She's the weakest link right now. I'll tell you everything I know about the four of them, but you need to promise me something."

Spencer frowned. "I won't promise to not arrest you."

Cat smiled softly. "I know. You are one of the good guys. I knew it as soon as I met you. I want you to promise me," she paused for a second, as if reconsidering her words. "I want you to promise me that you'll live through this, and that you'll take care of your mom."

"That's really what you want me to promise?" Spencer couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice.

Cat let out a soft laugh. "No… I want…" Her voice trailed off, and the smile left her face. She touched her side, tracing the shirt around the cut, a slight frown gracing her lips. "I want to help you. I wanted you to promise you'd trust me. But I can't ask you for that." She stood up and gave a small shrug. "Wake me up when you are ready to bring me in." She turned and walked to his bedroom, her footsteps making the floor creak softly.

Spencer stared after her for a long time after she'd left. _It could all be a trick_ , he reminded himself. It didn't feel like one though. Cat almost died tonight. That was real. And she'd gotten shot because she'd tried to help him figure out…something… He still wasn't sure what she'd meant by 'take down the heads of the government.' He rose to his feet and walked into the bedroom to ask her. The hallway spilled a bit of light into the dark room, enough to see her body curled up on top of his bed covers, dead asleep.

Later, he would blame it on sleep deprivation, or on maybe adrenaline finally wearing off from the longest day of his life... Had it really been that morning they'd found the townhouse? He pulled an extra blanket out of his closet and covered her with it. Then he sat down on the bed next to her and pushed her hair out of her face.

He'd meant to just sit for a moment, but his body felt heavy from lack of sleep and the weight of all the new questions he had. He glanced at his watch. 5am. The sun would be rising soon. He'd bring her in to the FBI then. Without consciously thinking about it, his legs stretched out and his head hit the pillow, falling into a heavy, dreamless sleep.


End file.
